


Fissure

by alasweneverdo



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasweneverdo/pseuds/alasweneverdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi knows everyone wants some sign that he's shed tears over this. They won’t get any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fissure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inheritedjeans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritedjeans/gifts).



> I wrote this sometime last year and never posted it, for some reason. Huh.
> 
> No beta this time, so all mistakes are my own.

_If you had protected Eren, none of this would have happened_.

If.

As far as words go, that's the one Levi thinks is most likely to eat him alive.

If he'd gotten there sooner. If he'd never left. If he'd finished off the Female Titan in the clearing. If he'd let Eren shift the first time around. If he'd just _known_.

It's not even that he blames himself; he knows that would be unreasonable. Fact is, he did what he did because there was no reason not to at the time. It's like that shit Erwin's always saying about hindsight and how you can't get caught up in your regrets. Mistakes are made, but you learn from them and move on. You have to. In their line of work, a person could drown in hypotheticals.

Just now, Levi already thinks he might be drowning.

What he wants is for this to be someone's fault. Yes, he could pin all the blame on the titan shifter, but they're just some faceless evil. Better off pointing fingers at the Boogey Man.

For one morbid instant, he wonders if Mikasa saw the bodies. Maybe there was something more in her accusation, he thinks, something beyond just Eren's capture.

Good. At least someone can tell themselves he's at fault.

 

It's not Petra rolling off the cart. It's just a body. Just a body with her face hidden somewhere underneath all the blood.

Not Petra.

Not Petra.

That's what keeps him from turning back. As long as he remembers she isn't in there anymore, he can keep going forward.

He isn't going to think about a corpse with Petra's face lying in a field somewhere and getting picked apart by birds.

 

For every moment that he doesn't break down, he gets another set of eyes boring holes in his skull, willing him to form some semblance of a human response. He keeps his expression impassive and the disgust in the air turns almost palpable.

Eren will hardly look at him. When he does, it's with flared nostrils and a clenched jaw and all kinds of hellfire in his glare. He hasn't said that he thinks Levi's a piece of shit, but at this point he doesn't need to.

Levi knows everyone wants some sign that he's shed tears over this. They won't get any. He could tell them about all the time he's spent puking his guts out, or how he washed his sheets a dozen times when he got home but had to burn them because they wouldn't stop smelling like Petra's hair. He could tell them he can't sleep in his own bed anymore without wanting to vomit all over again. But he won't.

Ignoring the looks of disdain, he stares straight ahead and continues drinking his tea.

 

Does the fact that they'd said "maybe later" to marriage mean they were engaged? And is that close enough that it makes him a widower?

The plan was to retake Wall Maria, _then_ think about tying the knot. That was all mostly a joke anyway, since they didn't really think they'd manage it, even with Eren on their side.

He wonders if it would've felt better or worse if they'd been married. Maybe it would have given her just a little more happiness in her last days and she could've died without either of them having regrets. And then, if nothing else, he'd have a ring to serve as a reminder.

As it stands, all he has is a Scouting Legion patch burning in his pocket. He reaches in and grabs hold of it, clenching his fist so hard that the nails would bite into his palm if not for that scrap of fabric.

It's good enough. It has to be.

 

The glares are less pointed, but he hardly notices anyway. All his concentration goes into steadying his hand. The teacup still shakes.

Hange's saying something, but for the life of him Levi doesn't know what. When he tries to focus on her words, hot tea sloshes out of the cup and scalds his fingers. It's only through some miracle that he doesn't lose his grip.

She asks how long he's been awake, and the answer's on the tip of his tongue, but he pauses, frowns. What day is it?

A hand comes to rest lightly on his arm and he jerks, startled. The cup falls and hits the table with a thud, tea soaking the table, then rolls off and shatters on the floor.

Silence.

Everyone turns to gape, and Hange, as if on cue, cracks a joke about his clumsiness. He could put on a mask of irritation and everything would be back to normal.

He just stares at the puddle of tea seeping into the table, wide-eyed and unable to look away.

 

It's not that he doesn't sleep. He catches naps sometimes at his desk, sitting upright with his chin falling against his chest. It's just a few hours every couple of days, sure, but it's the best he can manage.

If he lies down, he can feel a void where another body is supposed to be. Her entire existence is like a phantom limb, her absence becoming instead the presence of something agonizing. He thinks that if he tries lying in his own bed for a night, something in him might finally break.

As if something hasn't already.

So he sleeps in his chair, woken after a few hours by a gripping terror that sends his pulse skyrocketing and makes his heart lodge in his throat. He feels a surge of adrenaline just like the one in the forest, accompanied by a wave of nausea and a vice around his lungs.

The panic attacks wouldn't even be so bad if they were happening for a reason. But maybe they're what's keeping him grounded; without them, maybe he'd just keep sleeping for long enough that everything flow would together like one shitty, shitty dream.

 

Erwin tells him to pull himself together and Levi just _laughs_.

Pull himself together? For what? His ankle hasn't fully healed and all they've got going for them right now is a crystallized titan shifter in a basement. Erwin can talk all he wants about him being "useless to their cause." None of it matters.

At the threat of Hange forcibly sedating him, Levi huffs. They can lock him away for all he cares.

He isn't so tired that he misses the look that passes between Erwin and Mike. Concern, maybe. Or pity. And fuck them either way.

 

"You loved her."

Levi fixes the girl with the best _no shit_ look he can muster. It isn't easy when the exhaustion keeps making his eye twitch.

Unfazed, Mikasa tucks her hair behind her ear and resumes her unblinking stare.

"My parents were killed in front of me," she says. Before he can say that he knows all about the fiasco with her and Eren and some scumbag criminals, she continues, "I understand."

Understand what? Pain? Loss? So does everyone. Take a number.

"Your friend saw his mother get eaten alive," he says.

"Eren's different."

Levi snorts.

"He turns his grief into rage. Being angry... it's easy for him. It makes the pain easier to cope with." She frowns. "He thinks he knows how it feels to lose everything, but even when he had nothing else, he still had me and Armin. A family."

"What are you trying to say?"

"If we found a way to break through the crystal," she says, "I'd help you kill her."

His eyes narrow, lip curling into a sneer. "The information we could get from her might save all of humankind."

Mikasa's stare pierces right through him, all too comprehending.

"It's satisfying," she says, and there's no ambiguity as to what she means.

 

In truth, he doesn't fantasize about killing Annie Leonhart. Not anymore, at least. Instead, he imagines a world where Petra is still alive and doesn't need avenging. He thinks of the lines of worry that would wrinkle her brow if she saw the state he's in, raccoon eyes and sagging body. Then she'd get all pissed off at him for being stupid and not taking care of himself, but her maternal instincts would kick in and she would make him lie down, his head resting in her lap. She would hum and stroke his hair and he would pretend not to like it.

The first time they kissed, she ended up grabbing his ass and apologizing. He told her, deadpan, that she was damn lucky he loved her—which wasn't meant to sound romantic at all, really, but there she was anyway with her red-faced stammering and shy grin.

He thinks about all the time spent groping over clothes like teenagers, half-hearted mumbles of _it's noon what if someone walks in_ fading into nothing. And then the time when someone _did_ walk in, when the only thing protecting Petra's modesty was the cover of Levi's body over hers, and the shouts of _SORRY SORRY SORRY_ carried through the halls.

He thinks of how she would tap her knuckles against the back of his hand in a gesture of affection, knowing he didn't like to hold hands when the heat made their palms sweaty. She was always so fucking considerate, always making sure he was comfortable. And to pay her back for accommodating all his ridiculous eccentricities, he rubbed her shoulders and let her have his side of the bed and never complained about morning breath. He told her he loved her even though he felt dumb saying it.

If killing that girl would bring Petra back, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But it won't.

 

Still, it would be satisfying.


End file.
